The Orc
by Gol Heim
Summary: An Orc is driven to Skyrim on a quest of vengeance, as he pursues the one who destroyed his home. First shot at writing a story, please tell me how I can improve without being too brutal. Thank you kindly for reading. Please enjoy.


**Chapter One:** **Finally Awake**

_Fire crackling_

_Wood shattering_

_A child's scream_

_Drowned out by a roar_

_Yol Toor Shul!_

The Orc's head was pounding like he had had one too many bottles of mead. An ass kicking never felt good when you awoke. He tried to rub his temples, but realized with a start that he had trouble moving his arms. The Orc's eyes snapped open and he lifted his wrists to his face. Sure enough he was handcuffed, with heavy iron restraints, "Shit" he muttered.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

The Orc dropped his wrists in his lap with a clank and looked in front of himself. A man with blonde hair and pale skin, Nord by the look of him, was sitting across from the Orc in what looked to be a wooden cart, bumping along a stone road.

"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

To the right end of the cart there was a sullen looking Nord with red hair.

"Damn you Stormcloaks." he spat "Skyrim was fine until you came along, empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could've-"

The Orc had been bored of the conversation almost as soon as it started and had stopped listening. He looked around and saw an imperial soldier in light armor driving the cart and another one trailing the cart on a horse to cut down any prisoner that tried to run. As he fiddled with the cold lock on his restraints he noticed that there were no iron restraints on the other prisoners, but only weak rope. The Orc chuckled, his captors weren't as stupid as they seemed. String restraints couldn't hold an Orc chief.

As the cart hit a bump on the stony road, the Orc looked to the left and saw that the cart was quickly nearing a town with walls of timber and stone. He looked back at the still conversing Nords. "Ahem." he uttered.

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" the redhead cried.

"Hey!" The Orc barked.

"Hmm?" said the blonde Nord.

"Where am I? And where are we going?"

The Nord looked at the Orc strangely, "Why you're in Skyrim of course, look around."

The Orc saw a bright morning sun shining into his eyes and making him blink; he felt a cold winter wind that made him shiver. Wait a minute… shiver? The Orc looked down at his chest, "Fuck!" His armor was missing. Those damned imperial thieves had taken his priceless Orcish armor and had left him with stained rags that smelled of alcohol and skeever piss.

The Orc groaned, "What a nice introduction to this frozen shit hole. Now, where in Oblivion are we going!"

The Blonde Nord glanced towards the oncoming town with a look of defeat, "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

The Orc's brow furrowed, "Sovereign Guard?"

The thief Nord stared at the cart floor in shock, "Where true Nords go after they die."

"Son of a…" the Orc stammered in confusion, "I didn't do anything! These imperial assholes clubbed me from behind while I was minding my own business!"

"Shut up back there!" The soldier driving the cart called back.

Preparing to strangle the soldier with his shackles, the Orc suddenly paused. Wherever this cart was going would lead to whoever planned the ambush, and his assault. The Orc sat back on his bench and waited silently as the cart entered the city's walls.

Once they were inside the city's walls, the cart driver called out to a man on a horse wearing golden imperial armor, "General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with." the golden man replied.

"Look at him!" the blonde Nord sneered, "General Tullius, the military governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

"Tullius huh?" the Orc mused at the grey haired imperial, "Looks kinda worn out to be a General."

The blonde Nord chuckled, "Say friend, I never caught your name."

The Orc gazed at him sullenly, "I never tossed it."

At the center of town the cart jerked to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief whimpered.

"Why do you think?" said the blonde Nord, "end of the line."

As the prisoners got out of the cart and formed neat little lines to be executed, the Orc looked about for someone to get him out of this mess. There was a female imperial captain in front of the line giving orders, and a large Nord man standing next to her writing in a book. The Orc had to get out of here. He wasn't afraid to die, but he needed to finish what had been started.

Suddenly the thief Nord that had been in the Orc's cart cried out, as his name was called, "No We aren't rebels! You can't do this" In a flash, he sprinted past the guards in front of the line.

The Imperial captain did not make any moves to stop him, "Halt!" she called out to him.

The running thief called back madly, "You aren't gonna catch me!"

The Orc scowled in disgust, the thief was pathetic. He needed to pay for his crimes in blood, and instead he ran, disgracing himself.

"Archers!" The captain yelled.

The thief died before he hit the ground and landed at an awkward angle, so that his leg stuck out to one side.

"Anyone else feel like running?"

When the line thinned out the Nord guard with the book called to him, "You there."

The Orc took a step forward.

"Who are you?"

The Orc thought. Who was he really? He had a large build, even for an Orc, with dark green skin and bones protruding from his brow and the sides of his forehead. His forehead was broad and low, which gave a constant look of scrutiny or even irritation on his face. He had two large tusks at the bottom of his jaw protruding upwards, almost touching the sides of his nose. His night black hair was long and neat in a ponytail, but he kept himself clean-shaven with a steel knife he had taken from a bandit that he had killed when he was eight.

He was an Orsimer whose home had been a powerful stronghold in the Wrothgarian Mountains. His home had a mine, trained trolls, and steel catapults. But that wasn't really what home was. Home was his family and his tribe. He had no home anymore.

"I am the Orc-gro Gol Heim." The Orc muttered.

The Nord guard glanced downward at his book, and then back at the Orc, "You from one of the strongholds, Orc? How did you end up here?"

The Orc gave him a blank stare, "I need to talk to general Tullius. I am not a Stormcloak."

The guard paused, thinking, and turned to the Imperial captain to his right, "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list," the captain said, her gaze never leaving the Orc, "he goes to the block."

The Nord guard appeared troubled, but quickly shrugged, "By your orders captain." He turned to the Orc, "I'm sorry Orc. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Orsinium."

The Orc gave the Nord a smile, "I'm sorry too." He quickly leapt at the guard and connected a flying kick to his jaw.

The Imperial captain's sword was out instantly, as she tried to strike the Orc with a downward slash. The Orc raised his wrists, braced for impact, and caught the sword with the shackles that bound him. The sword sheared right through the iron restraints. The shock of the blow vibrated through the captain's arm. She dropped her sword, and grasped her hand in pain.

By then, the entire inhabitance of the courtyard had taken notice of the single resisting prisoner, and had begun to take action. Prisoners waiting to be executed cheered and shouted, but made no moves to help the Orc. Guards dropped their lists and grabbed their weapons.

The Orc, realizing that he would soon end up like the thief if he did not act immediately, grabbed for the still shocked Imperial and put her in a chokehold in front of him like a shield.

Suddenly ten guards had appeared in front of the Orc, bows drawn and ready, as he backed towards a building wall.

"Fire! Shoot him!" The Imperial captain choked.

The closest guard obeyed and released his hold on the bowstring. His arrow planted itself into the captain's shoulder.

She cried out in pain, "Never mind! Don't shoot!"

Some of the confused guards lowered their bows, while other kept their weapons aimed. For a moment there was silence. Nobody moved a muscle.

Then the sound of armor clinking, and boots scraping against dirt could be heard as General Tullius strode towards the Orc.

"Let her go." The general said nonchalantly, "Now."

"No." the Orc spat, "Not until I get a fair trial."

Just then, a faraway noise echoed from the mountaintops.

"Let the poor girl down and we'll talk."

"Not with your personal infantry pointing arrows at my face."

The noise sounded again, closer this time. Some guards even broke focus to glance at the sky.

The Orc glanced up too. Something about that noise was familiar, something daunting, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he couldn't focus.

The general sighed. He sounded more irritated at the inconvenience than infuriated by the capture of his captain, "Let the captain go now, or I will order these men to fire."

The Imperial captain moaned and struggled to get out of the Orc's grip.

"I can't do that Tullius." the Orc shook his head lightly, "Your men will shoot me anyways."

Tullius pursed his lips, "I don't have time to wait for you to gain some reason Orc. I have more important things to do today, like end a war." The general raised his hand, "Let go of the captain now, or you will be shot."

The Orc sighed. Perhaps it was better this way, to rejoin his family and friends in the Ashpit, to dine and fight eternally with his father Malacath, to see his little girls and sons again. Everything the flying shadow had taken away from him was there. Everything he cared about, he would see again in death. The Orc took a breath, and readied himself. Better to go out fighting than to die on his hands and knees.

Suddenly a deafening roar came from just over the mountainside. A black winged shape arose from behind the mountaintop and glided towards the town.

Some of the guards turned and pointed, screaming.

The Orc himself stood in shock, almost losing his grip on the Imperial captive. This was the creature that had taken his family and home from him. This was the monster that he had sworn on his honor as an Orc to destroy. This was the flying shadow, the shouting death. The dragon.

As the black dragon Alduin landed heavily onto a tower, he took a breath and shouted.

_Yol Tor Shul!_


End file.
